Adapt
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Mike had been shot. Mike had pushed him out of the way and taken a bullet meant for him. Mike had been shot in the chest. Oh noez! O.o


**Hey guys! Gah, I feel like I haven't even been close to computer in almost two weeks! O.o Curse you college! And oh my God! Next SUMMER for new Suits? Screw you USA! XS Anyway, I've been playing with this idea for a while now and just got around to writing it! Hope you all like it! :D**

**I own nothing *le sob!***

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"Jesus, Harvey, I said I was sorry!" Mike muttered again, trailing after the older man as quickly as he could without slipping on the freshly waxed floors. Harvey was a few feet in front of him, already breezing through the front doors and making his way down the stairs. "So you're ignoring me now? Is that it?" Mike called after him, pushing through the door and picking up his pace to catch up to Harvey.

The older man rounded on him then, eyes narrowed in irritation. "Its not ignoring, I just don't see the point of wasting my energy talking to a "laywer" who can't even win a simple land development case." The words were sharp and painful like a verbal slap but Mike didn't back down.

"They pulled a surprise witness, Harvey! What was I supposed to do? The case was rock solid until Donald Crouch took the stand and drew a great big X over everything I'd worked on. He was never set to be in this trial and he was pulled as a special witness this morning!"

"Then you adapt!" Harvey snapped back, his eyes still narrowed at Mike. It was late, nearly 9:30, and while there weren't that many people crossing in front of Pearson and Harden this time of night, those who did looked up curiously at the arguement taking place between the two men on the steps.

"That's why I hired you Mike! That's why you're working for me at all! You can adapt to situations better and faster than those Harvard clones in there ever could and I expect you to be able to do that in the court room as well! If you can't, if you fall apart at even the slightest change in schedule during a trial, then you're no use to me." Harvey took a step back, eyeing Mike carefully for a second before turning and making his way down the stairs again.

"No use to you?" Mike growled incredelously, his eyes narrowing in turn now. "No use to you? I have done nothing but pick up the cases you've been assigned but don't want. I've been busting my ass for you since I started working here and now you're telling me I'm no use to you? Why? Because I lost one case due to an unintended witness and a stack of new evidence brought forward that the judge allowed to be permitted in court? Because of all that I'm suddenly useless to you?"

"Mike, its your Goddamn job to be prepared for shit like that!" Harvey snapped, turning and glaring at him again. "You think everything is always going to go smoothly in court just because you have a good case against your opponent? Wrong! You prepare for anything and make sure you can handle whatever the court room throws at you! Jesus Mike, a community college government student could have won this case! You crumbled and let the entire case crumble with you! I don't need someone like that working for me."

Mike squared his shoulders, his eyes blazing as he glared back at Harvey. "So, what? Are you firing me now because I lost the case?"

Harvey rolled his eyes and turned away from him again. "I'm not firing you when there's a stack of paperwork to be done and turned in to Jessica's desk by tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, so you're keeping me on to do your busy work still? Great."

"Listen kid, don't think you've earned the balls the cock an attitude with me just because-"

"Harvey Specter." There was a new voice now, soft, almost questioning, at the bottom of the stairs. Harvey turned his attention away from Mike and looked down to where the voice had come from. There was a man standing at the bottom of the stairs, slightly hunched and balding, a large, dust-colored jacket hanging over his shoulders like he'd come across it a size too large.

Harvey looked at him carefully, gesturing just slightly behind his back for Mike to follow him down the stairs. "Yes? I'm Harvey Specter."

The man smiled faintly. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "Do you know who I am Mr. Specter?"

Harvey reached the bottom of the stairs, Mike close behind him, his eyes never leaving the man's face. "No, I'm afraid I have no idea who you are."

The man smiled the same sickly calm smile. "Seven years ago you pursued a company for insufficient and fraudulent tax reports and subsequently got the entire branch shut down because of it. Do you remember, Mr. Specter? Over 700 people lost their jobs that day, jobs they'd had for years and jobs they planned to retire with. Jobs that were their only source of income." The smile faded slightly and a cold, malicious glint hit the man's eyes. "Do you remember, Mr. Specter?"

Harvey kept his expression and his posture neutral, trying to remember the case the man was talking about. "Hewett Construction Solutions," he said finally, the memory dawning on him. "Yes, I remember."

"Did you know that those fraudulent tax claims reflected onto all of the employees who worked for that company?" The man continued, a sneer pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Did you know that many companies in this city won't hire someone if a flag appears on their credit history about fraudulent tax claims?"

"That's not true," Harvey said slowly, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm. He'd dealt with disgruntled clients before but there was something about this man that put him on edge. "If you explain the situation to them-"

"I did and it didn't work!" The man snarled, his eyes glaring holes in his skull. "I went to every construction company in this city trying to find a job and no one would hire me! I lost my house, my car, everything! All because of you!" The man shook his head then, one hand reaching into his coat pocket, and Harvey felt a cold sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "You ruined my life, Mr. Specter." And there it was: the gun. And it was aimed directly at Harvey's chest.

Harvey opened his mouth to say something but there was a deafening crack and the world tilted crazily for a second before he felt himself hit the concrete hard. It hurt and he was waiting for the intense burn of the bullet wound somewhere in his body but it never came. In fact, the only pain he felt was from where he'd hit the ground. There was something sprawled across his legs though, something heavy and warm.

He looked down then, his eyes widening a bit as he saw Mike sprawled halfway across his legs and halfway onto the sidewalk. He was curled onto one side, not moving, and for one horrible second Harvey was afraid he was dead. The man had turned and fled by now, the sound of the gunshot attracting the attention of the few people out on the street that night. He saw two men run and tackle the man as he ran down the sidewalk, one of them wrestling the gun away from him and the other pinning him to the ground forcefully.

Harvey didn't care though, he was still staring wide-eyed at Mike. He was on his knees then, rolling the younger man onto his back carefully. Mike gasped weakly, his eyes screwed shut in pain and his face drained of blood. His lips were a sickly white color and the effect made his appearance even more ghastly. There was a tiny hole, no bigger than a dime, in the lapel of his suit jacket and his shirt, an alarming amount of blood blossoming from behind it. Mike had been shot. Mike had pushed him out of the way and taken a bullet meant for him. Mike had been shot in the chest.

"Ngh...this is...my favorite suit...too..." he gasped, his voice coming out in a wet, throaty gasp. The blood was staining his sleeve now, his hands and fingers, pooling onto the ground beneath him. Harvey felt sick.

"Jesus..." he heard himself muttered, pulling off his own jacket and pressing it over the wound heavily. Mike let out a soft, gasping cry and writhed beneath him, trying to move away from the pain. "What the fuck where you thinking?" Harvey growled, not taking the pressure off the wound and instead pressing down harder. "Goddammit Mike! What the fuck where you thinking?"

Mike grimaced beneath him and swallowed convulsively. "A...adapting..." he coughed out, gasping again. He was having trouble breathing, it felt like he was trying to take a breath under water. There was blood in his mouth, staining his teeth and odd pink color. The bullet had pierced a lung.

"Shitshitshit..." Harvey gasped, pushing down harder on the wound. Blood was beginning to seep through his jacket and he knew a large majority of it was leaking into the punctured lung as well. He could hear Mike's shallow, gurgled breathing and knew that if he didn't do something soon, the kid could quite literally drown in his own blood. There was a rumble of a car close by and the sound of door closing. Harvey didn't bother to look up.

"Harvey? What the hell happened?" Ray's voice was carrying over the rush of blood in his ears and he staggered to a stop when he came around the side of the car. "Oh my God...Mike?"

Harvey looked up at him then, taking his eyes off Mike's bloodless face for the first time since he's been shot. "Mike got shot. I need a plastic bag, a cellophane wrapper, something! Anything!" Ray nodded and rushed back to the car, leaving them alone on the sidewalk once more.

Mike's eyes were fluttering, his breathing coming out in short, wheezing gasps. Harvey brought a hand up to his face, noticing absently that his fingers were streaked with blood, and cupped Mike's cheek. "Hey kid, stay with me okay? Just stay with me..."

"Har-..." Mike coughed again, frothy, pink blood tinging his lips.

"Easy, kiddo...I'm right here..."

Ray returned a few seconds later, ripping the cellophane off a pack of cigarettes and handing it to Harvey. He'd been trying to kick the habit for months now but always kept a full pack in the glove compartment just in case. Right now, Harvey had never been so glad to know a smoker in all of his life. He peeled the blood-soaked jacket away from Mike's chest and covered the bullet hole with the cellophane, pressing it down so it created a seal against his skin. He covered the wound with the jacket again, pressing down firmly.

"I need you to hold this here," he told Ray, moving his hands when the other man placed both of his on top of the jacket. Ray applied as much pressure as he could while Harvey pulled out his cell phone and called for an ambulance.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My associate has been shot. I need an ambulance immediately." Harvey spoke quickly into the receiver, his eyes flickering back to Mike. The younger man's eyes were barely open now, his face taking on a sickening grayish color. "Now! Please!"

"Where are you located, sir?"

"The sidewalk in front of Pearson and Harden. Please, I need someone here now!"

"We have an ambulance en route, sir. Another call was placed a few minutes ago." As if to verify her statement, the distant wailing of sirens could be heard piercing through the still night air. Harvey hung up the phone, listening carefully to the approaching sirens. They were getting closer, maybe only a block or two away-

"Harvey..."

Something in Ray's tone of voice made his attention snap back to the driver. Ray sounded scared. "Harvey, he's not breathing..."

Harvey felt like someone had just punched him in the chest and his stomach dropped to the ground. Mike's eyes were closed now, his chest still, and for the second time in under ten minutes, Harvey was afraid he was dead. He pressed his fingers against Mike's throat forcefully, hard enough to bruise, and felt a weak, thready pulse beneath them. It was slow though, fading with each second of blood loss, and he felt a surge of blind panic rise in his chest. Mike was dying. Mike was going to die right here in front of him and all because he was stupid enough to jump in front of a man with a gun.

"No you don't, kid..." he growled suddenly, tilting Mike's head back and covering his mouth with his own. He breathed into him, watching the barely noticable rise and fall of his chest out of the corner of his eye. Ray was still above him, keeping constant pressure on the wound and keeping the air from escaping from the bullet hole. His lips were moving silently and Harvey was pretty sure he was praying. Harvey took another breath, forcing it into Mike's unresponsive lungs slowly.

"Breathe Mike..." he muttered, breathing into his again. "Breathe...You don't get to quit that easily..." He checked his pulse again, frowning in dismay at the slow, fluttering beat.

The wail of sirens was closer than ever now and there was a flash of red and gold lights next to the curb. Suddenly, a flurry of paramedics was on the sidewalk next to them, gently but firmly pushing Harvey and Ray away from Mike as they worked. Harvey watched grimly as they threaded a tube down his throat and hooked him up to an oxygen mask. There was a blur of movement and Mike was placed onto a stretcher, strapped down securely, and loaded into the back of the ambulance. The doors closed and it pulled away, leaving both Harvey and Ray standing silently in its wake.

A police car had appeared further down the street and was loading the gunman into the back of the car. Harvey was eyeing them sharply, every single fiber of his being wanting nothing more than to walk down there and break every bone in the man's body multiple times. He started toward them, fists clenched at his sides, and it was only Ray grabbing him by the back of the shirt and literally yanking him backwards that stopped him from committing a felony.

"Harvey!" Ray growled, jerking him backward toward the car. "Leave it! You go storming down there now and you're both going to end up in jail! Let the cops do their job and we'll do ours. Get in the car, we're going to the hospital."

Harvey wanted to argue with him or just plain ignore him and go beat the man to death with his briefcase but he couldn't. He was numb, shaking all over, and he could feel Mike's blood on his hands. He could taste Mike's blood on his lips and it made him sick to his stomach. Mike had taken a bullent meant for him...

He shook his head and turned back toward the car, sliding into the passenger seat and absently clicking his seatbelt on. Ray pulled away from the curb and Harvey stared blankly out the window as they drove, trying his hardest to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

**OOOOO**

Useless...he'd called Mike useless right before he got shot. He'd told him he didn't need him...that he was weak and that it was his fault the case crumbled...

Harvey was slumped in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting room of the hospital, staring at the floor and waiting for any kind of news on Mike's condition. It had been three hours since the shooting and he'd already give two police reports, neither of which did anything to quell the rage he still felt toward the gunman. That man had shot Mike...he had _shot_ his associate...

Ray had stepped out to call Jessica and Donna and Harvey was sure it was only a matter of time before both of them flooded into the the ER with a tidal wave of estrogen in their wake. To be honest, Harvey wouldn't mind the distraction. Anything to take his mind off the events of the night. He'd called Mike useless...

The doors swung open and a middle aged man in moss green scrubs appeared, pulling off a mask with one hand and running a hand through his hair with the other. "Family of Mike Ross?"

Harvey was on his feet before he knew it, walking over to man who'd just entered the room. "I am. I'm Harvey Specter."

The doctor gave him a soft smile and nodded toward the chair. "Mr. Specter, why don't we have a seat over here?"

Harvey shook his head numbly. "No, I'd rather stand, thanks."

The doctor looked somewhat taken aback but nodded nonetheless. "Very well. I was the surgeon for Mr. Ross in the OR. He's being moved to the ICU now and we want to keep him there for a few days to keep an eye on him. The bullet collapsed his right lung and had begun to partially fill the left with blood that had been aspirated. We managed to repair the damage and drain the blood but he'd going to have to stay here for a few days in order to heal completely."

Harvey released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So...he's going to be okay?"

The doctor nodded and smiled a bit more reassuringly. "He'll be weak and he may have to see a respiratory therapist for a few days in order to ensure there's no permanent damage to his lungs but I think he'll make a full recovery." He nodded again toward the hospital cooridors. "Your friend was very lucky Mr. Specter."

Harvey just nodded numbly again, overcome with relief that Mike was going to be alright. He felt the doctor gently push him back into one of the plastic chairs and step away. "I'll have one of the nurses tell you when Mr. Ross has been safely moved to the ICU."

Harvey didn't say anything, he didn't have the vocal capabilities even if he's wanted to. His throat felt like it was torn between constricting and allowing him to breathe normally for the first time in nearly fours hours. Mike was alright...he was going to be okay...Harvey closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and went back to waiting.

**OOOOO**

Mike awoke slowly, his eyes flickering open blearily after what felt like hours. He blinked up at the white tiled ceiling, confusion waring heavily on his mind. Where was he? Why was he laying down? What the hell was down his throat? He gagged involuntarily, the feeling of something slick and foreign threading down the back of his throat making him cough and panic.

Something was beeping shrilly above his head then, the noise loud and irritating, and he closed his eyes against it. He gagged again, fighting the irresistible urge to throw up. Someone was saying his name, far away and high above his head. Warm hands were on his face, his hands, his shoulders, but it did nothing to quell the panic that was rising in his chest.

There was a sharp sting in the back of his hand and the world around him began to fade. Everything felt soft and warm and he could feel unconsciousness pulling at him again. He opened his eyes, blinking slowly, and caught sight of Harvey looking down at him. Harvey was here (wherever here was)? Well that's nice, at least they were "here" together. But why did he look like that? Why did he look so scared...?

Mike couldn't think anymore as warm, comforting darkness washed over his senses like a dark tide.

**OOOOO**

The next time he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that the tube or whatever it was that had been jammed down his throat was gone. There was a thin tube pressing beneath his nose though, the lengths of the tube looping up and over the tops of his ears. He blinked slowly, looking around the room without moving his head too much.

He was definitely in the hospital, he could tell that much from the assortment of machines to his left. Also, the IV and the electrodes attached to his chest were pretty much a dead give away. He wondered for a second why his chest hurt so much but the memory of the man with the gun came flooding back before he could question it much further. He remembered arguing with Harvey and then seeing the man at the bottom of the stairs...the man had been angry...he pulled a gun on Harvey and Mike had jumped in front of him. Ah...so that explained the extensive bandages across his chest and why he felt like one whole side had been crushed in a trash compactor. Super.

He moved his head slowly then, looking over at the chair beside his bed. Harvey was slumped in the chair, his eyes closed and hair disheveled. His suit was wrinkled and mussed and he looked like he hadn't take a shower in a few days. One hand was on the bed next to Mike's, resting so close that if Mike moved his finger just a tiny inch to the right he could-

The thought was cut off when Donna suddenly entered the room. The minute she saw him, he eyes filled with tears. "You are by far the stupidest, bravest, most idiotic, amazing, utterly terrible people I have ever met!" She hissed, crossing the room and gathering Mike's face in both of her hands. "Don't you ever, ever, EVER do anything like that again, Mike!" She mumbled between pressing furious kisses all over his face and hair. "I swear to God!"

In spite of himself, Mike smiled. "I'm sorry Donna..." his voice sounded weak and raspy in his own ears and he wondered how much of that came from the injury.

"You better be sorry!" Donna growled but there was no heat in her voice as she kept stroking his hair and cupping his face in both hands. "I swear, Mike...you're going to give me gray hairs by the time I'm 30!" Even in his drugged state, Mike knew better than to comment on Donna's age so he kept his mouth shut.

"So, someone finally decided to join the party?" Harvey voice spoke up from beside the bed and Mike looked over to see him sitting up straighter. "About time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty." Mike knew he was teasing but there was a haunted, lost quality to his voice that couldn't be hidden behind the easy smile.

Harvey looked at Donna. "Donna, could you give us a second?" The redhead hesitated, seemingly torn between leaving the room and staying to faun over Mike some more. Finally, she nodded and stepped away from the bed, disappearing out into the hall. Once she was gone, Harvey turned his attention to Mike. "How are you feeling?"

Mike's first instinct was to say "fine" but the look on Harvey's face told him he wasn't in the mood for lies right now. "Sore," he answered instead, wincing a bit as he tried to move and caused the stitches in his chest to pull.

Harvey said nothing for a long minute, his eyes fixed on the younger man. Finally, he let out a long, tired breath and shook his head. "Mike...why did you do that?"

Mike frowned in confusion and looked at him. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean why did you take that bullet? Why did you push me out of the way?"

Mike was still confused and frowned. "The man had a gun, Harvey...he was about to shoot you..."

"Yeah, and you got shot instead."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"You could have died, Mike!" Harvey snapped suddenly, cutting off whatever the younger man had been about to say. "You could have been killed! Fuck, you nearly were! Why would you do anything so stupid?"

Mike just shook his head slowly. "I don't know...I didn't think about it...I saw him pull the gun and I just...reacted, I guess." He shrugged the shoulder on his uninjured side. "I couldn't let him shoot you..."

"But you took the bullet instead," Harvey growled, fighting somewhere between rage and concern. "You took a bullet for me, Mike...do you have any idea what that means?"

Mike shrugged his uninjured shoulder again. "You owe me a really good holiday bonus?"

Harvey didn't fall for the joke; instead, he stood and leaned over the bed so he was face-to-face with his associate. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again, do you understand me? Don't you ever risk your life for me."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Come off it...you would have done the same for me."

"That's not the point," Harvey growled, his eyes softening a bit. "Mike, you nearly died in front of me...in my arms...I never want to feel that helpless again. I never want to see you in that position again, understand?"

The younger man hesitated for a second before nodding. He had a vague memory of Harvey leaning over him, encouraging him to breathe, fear and panic in his eyes. He couldn't imagine how terrified he would be if something like that had happened in front of him, especially to Harvey. Finally, he nodded slowly. "I understand."

"Good." Harvey stepped away from the bed and sat back down though one hand had reached up and threaded itself through Mike's hair. He kept it there, needing some sort of reassurance that Mike was still alive and well and there and that it wasn't all some kind of horrible dream. Mike leaned into the touch just slightly like a puppy seeking affection and Harvey couldn't help but smile softly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Leave me on the sidewalk with a $5 bill and a note saying "free to a good home" attached to my shirt?" Mike muttered sleepily, his eyes beginning to slip closed as Harvey's fingers carded idly through his hair.

"Whatever, I wouldn't give you $5," Harvey muttered, his fingers twirling through the soft, silky strands. Mike's breathing was evening out, much to Harvey's great relief (it was nothing at all like it had been back on that sidewalk...) He smiled softly and kept his hand in Mike's hair. "Go to sleep kid...we'll be here when you wake up."

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**A/N: Okay, so I'm going to do something kind of weird with this story: there is tons of follow up stuff that could be done with this one-shot (pneumonia, infection, Harvey insisting Mike stay with him and mothering him while he heals ie: helping him get dressed, checking his breathing at night, changing the dressings, etc) but I don't know when I'd be able to write any of it O.o So here's the deal: I'm relinquishing the rights for a sequel to anyone who would like to write it. As much as I would love to write one, I just don't have that much time anymore and I'm willing to turn over full creative liberties to anyone who would like to do something with this ^.- I have no money to pin to its shirt but a sequel is totally "free to a good home." :D**


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